


Deep Space Nine drabbles

by Chesari



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Community: where_no_woman, Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, Gen, Trek Women
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-08
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2017-10-19 16:43:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/202987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chesari/pseuds/Chesari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of my DS9 drabbles from various drabblefests, most of them at the Where No Woman community on LJ. None of them are rated more than T or PG-13.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. She always remembers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in response to prompt #4 [in this post](http://community.livejournal.com/where_no_woman/137707.html), and rated T or PG-13 I'd say. Here's the prompt:
> 
>  _She must never go out of the house  
>  unless veiled in paint.  
> She must wear tight shoes  
> so she always remembers her bondage.  
> She must never forget  
> she is rooted in the ground._   
> _  
> [Here's the full poem that the prompt is from, and damn is it good.](http://www.ericajong.com/poems/alcestis.htm)   
> _   
> 

Pel's lobes itch, under the fake ones. She's careful not to scratch. She's careful to slouch, and to always speak in a raspy voice, and to laugh when the other waiters make jokes about the stupidity of females.

There are times, of course, when she'd like to tell them all exactly who she is and exactly what she thinks of them. When those times come, she makes herself remember how much worse it is on Ferenginar. At least the women here can wear clothes. At least they can leave their homes on their own and speak to whomever they please. At least they're all free workers, not indentured servants, and they can't be thrown in jail for daring to earn a bit of latinum for themselves. The dabo girls are lucky, despite the leers and rude comments and occasional slaps on the ass they get from customers and waiters alike. Those slights are nothing compared to how bad it could be.

Still, when she sees Quark slip his arm around a discomfited dabo girl, it's not just jealousy she feels. There's disappointment too, and the urge to yell at him or throw something at him or grab him by the lapels and shake him. She knows him well enough by now to know that he could do better, and sometimes does.

A Ferengi without profit is no Ferengi at all. That's why she's out here, and it is worth it, even if sometimes she has to remind herself why. She wants to be a Ferengi. She wants to chart her own course, find her own opportunities. If faking her identity is what it takes to be treated like a real person, then that's what she'll do. She is no one's possession, and she won't live in a cage - at least, not a physical one.  



	2. Duranja

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for [](http://where-no-woman.livejournal.com/profile)[**where_no_woman**](http://where-no-woman.livejournal.com/)'s [September Drabblefest](http://community.livejournal.com/where_no_woman/160804.html). I've been waiting for this month's drabblefest post, and wouldn't you know it, the very first prompt grabbed me: "The flame also reminds us that life is precious, as each flame is unique. When it goes out, it's gone forever. And there will never be another quite like it."

Nerys has lit the duranja many times. During the Occupation, during the Resistance, there was little time for ritual - but she would always light a lamp, or a candle, at least that much, when a friend was lost.

Now she can mourn properly, but it's small comfort. She had thought that when the Cardassians left, death too would grant her a reprieve. But it hasn't.

Li Nalas. Lupaza. Furel. Antos. Marritza. Tekeny Ghemor. Ziyal.

And now Jadzia.

The duranja's flame is strong, bright. She closes her eyes and feels the heat of it on her face, and begins to speak.

She's whispering the word _protect_ when she chokes on tears and has to stop. The Prophets didn't protect Jadzia. She was in their temple, seeking their help, when she died. Maybe they weren't able to protect her. Maybe the Pagh Wraiths were just too strong. Or maybe they have some plan, some vision of Bajor's future, that required this.

Right now, she can't make herself believe that it matters. Jadzia was murdered while she was in the Prophets' care. And Nerys herself sent Jadzia to them, to ask for their aid. She trusted them. She and Jadzia both trusted the Prophets. She does blame the Pagh Wraiths, and she does blame Dukat - but if her gods are gods, she has to blame them too.

She opens her eyes and swallows, glares into the blurred, bright flame. " _Take her into the gates of heaven_ ," she says. Jadzia was not a Bajoran, but it's the least that they can do.

Too many lights have gone out. Too many brilliant, radiant lives like Jadzia's have been snuffed out too soon. Nerys will go on. She always has. But she can feel the fire within her falter, feel her faith wavering in the wind. Despite the heat of the lamplight, she feels cold.


	3. Peacemaker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the [August Drabblefest](http://community.livejournal.com/where_no_woman/149822.html) at Where No Woman. Gen, Dax POV, PG rating. Inspired by the prompt "Xenophobia - In psychology, a fear of or prejudice against beings outside one's own race or social group".

Kira vents about the Cardassians, those arrogant, shameless, remorseless, cold-blooded, hard-hearted, cruel and calculating bastards, and she wishes she never had to see one of them ever again. Jadzia says gently, "They're not all like that. You know that, Nerys. You remember Aamin Marritza."

Benjamin paces his office and fumes, slaps his baseball from hand to hand. He asks why the Bajorans must be so stubborn, so PRIDEFUL, that they can't see past that pride for even a MINUTE to work together for a common interest. Jadzia says simply, "They worked together during the Occupation." Then she smiles. "And I seem to recall a certain young ensign who was known for his unyielding confrontational attitude. He still to this day has quite a temper. Sometimes that passion serves him well."

Quark snarks about Hu-mons who think they're so perfect, as if they have the whole universe figured out, and what right do they have to impose their vaunted morals on him, those sanctimonious hypocrites. Jadzia says wryly, "Remember that time when your nephew wanted to join Starfleet, and you went so far as to sabotage his entrance exam to keep him from doing what he wanted? Why was that again? Oh, right, because profit is the most important thing in the universe, and that goes for everyone, whether they like it or not."

Worf growls that Ferengi are all _p'Takh_ , they are nothing but weak, cowardly criminals who have no honor, and he cannot see why they are allowed to remain aboard the station. Jadzia says sharply, "At least they know how to have fun. You could learn a thing or two from them." The fight that follows is well worth it.

Ezri is not Jadzia, and she is certain of nothing. But when Garak questions with biting sarcasm whether all Trill are as naive and foolishly optimistic as she is, his words spark a fire inside her, a sense of conviction that she didn't know she possessed. She says without anger, but with perfect clarity, "No. We are not all the same. Each one of us is different, because we're all different people."


	4. Climbing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the [Trek Femslash Comment Ficathon](http://cosmic-llin.livejournal.com/223913.html) over at [cosmic_llin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmic_llin/pseuds/cosmic_llin)'s LJ. The prompt, from [sophiegrace](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sophiegrace/pseuds/sophiegrace), was "Kira Nerys / Jadzia Dax; outdoors (bonus points for tree-climbing!)".

"The view really is better up here," she calls to Nerys.

"The view's just fine where I am," comes the reply. "Besides, somebody has to get this" - there's the clang of metal, a frustrated oath - "this TENT set up before sundown." _Tent_ could pass for an expletive, the way Nerys says it.

"What do we need a tent for? We can sleep under the stars."

A sharp laugh. "You've obviously never been in Dahkur during one of the summer storms. Trust me, if one of those comes along, you'll want the tent."

Jadzia rolls her eyes. "Nerys, it's not going to rain! There's not a cloud in the sky. It's gorgeous up here, come on!"

A sigh - a very loud one, for it to be audible this far away - and Nerys appears at the foot of the tree, peering up at her through the branches. "If I climb up there, as soon as I'm ready to climb down, you're coming with me."

"Fair enough," Jadzia says, smiling. She knows she's won.

Nerys scrambles up the tree with less than her usual grace and more than a few muttered curses. Jadzia leans out and offers her arm, and Nerys grabs on, hauls herself up to balance against the branch that Jadzia is perched on.

"Look." Jadzia points ahead, toward the hills turned golden by the slanting sunlight and deep blue where the light doesn't reach. In the valley below a river glistens, threading a path through red earth and gold-green forest.

"You're right," Nerys says. "It's pretty." The words are short, clipped, but her tone has softened already.

She has a leaf caught in her hair. Jadzia reaches for it, brushes it away.

Nerys turns and gives her a look that's trying to be stern, but it's not at all convincing. The twitch at the corner of her mouth is a dead giveaway. "Aren't YOU going to watch the beautiful sunset?"

"Well," Jadzia says. "Something beautiful, anyway."

That earns her a smile and, once she's managed to bend down and claim it, a kiss.


	5. Gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A missing scene from 4x16, "Bar Association". Lots of hurt and a little comfort.

He doesn't try to fight. That would just make things worse. He does beg, though, he can't help that. The Nausicaans take turns with him, each time trying to inflict more pain, until he hears bone crack and then FEELS it and all he can do is scream. 

One of them punches him in the chest, knocks the breath out of him. Stops him screaming.

"That's enough." Brunt's voice. The Nausicaan above him stops mid-swing. "I don't want him dead," Brunt says, and there's just a hint of fear in his voice. "Not yet, not unless that brother of his refuses to cooperate."

The Nausicaan bares his fangs and shakes Quark, slams him against the counter. He tries to suck in air and can't, it HURTS, there's something wrong in his chest. He can't breathe.

"Drop him and let's -" Brunt's voice cuts off, then picks up again in a whisper. "Dump him behind the counter, quick!"

The Nausicaan grabs him by the jacket and lifts him, and shoves hard. He's tumbling, falling. He hits head-first, hard enough that everything fades for a second.

The lights above the bar are right in his eyes, incredibly bright.

There's another voice now, low and gravelly and _Odo, that's Odo_. He tries to say Odo's name. Can't manage even a moan.

Brunt is saying something, silky and smooth. Deceptive. He'll make Odo leave, he'll convince him that nothing's wrong.

Quark tries to roll over, despite how much it hurts, tries to get up so that Odo will see him. He scrabbles at the shelves next to him, tries to grab on. Fails. But bottles clink together, and a glass falls from a shelf to the floor, shattering there.

The room falls silent. And then there's Odo, above him, blocking out the bar lights. "Quark," he says.

Quark mouths the word _Odo_ and grabs Odo's sleeve. He doesn't have to beg. Odo will keep the Nausicaans away from him just because it's the right thing to do.

"Odo to Security, I need backup. Odo to the infirmary, medical emergency at the bar."


End file.
